


tell me your secrets

by simplyclockwork



Series: natural progression [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Soldier John, POV Sherlock Holmes, Series, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock-centric, Slow Burn, after season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 02:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: "You’re telling me all your secrets andI fell deeper in love with you"
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: natural progression [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538974
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	tell me your secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet 4 in a series of short fics I'm planning to write based on posts from the tumblr account affectionatesuggestion
> 
> The series will follow a progression into an established Johnlock relationship
> 
> Edited to remove reference to Mary and Sherrinford as this is canon divergent and also I forgot about Rosie 🤦🏻♀️

Whenever John tells him about his time in Afghanistan, it is rare and wonderful, and Sherlock knows it is a special privilege, shared only with him. It happens in seemingly random moments, beyond Sherlock’s prediction, but seems tied to the detective’s own moments of self-dismantling.

Sometimes it happens when John has been staring into the fire or out the window after long moments of silence; sometimes when his scars are aching and there’s a faint limp in his otherwise sturdy stride; sometimes when he thinks of the lives lost beneath his hands, blood staining rust into desert sands. 

Sometimes it’s when John wakes from nightmares, new ones built from newer traumas, when Sherlock hesitates at the edge of the open bedroom door, caught between uncertainty and a desire to help.

Whatever the provocation, when John tells him about his time as a soldier, Sherlock listens with rapt attention, filing each word with reverence into the spaces of his mind he fills with John.

When John tells him about his past, of time spent beneath hot, blazing sun and the rattle of gunfire; of men crying out in pain and bloodlust, Sherlock feels that burning heat against his own skin; imagines the brush of bullets past his head and the prayers of dying men on his lips.

He imagines John, face grim and smeared with sweat and grit, sand caught in his short cropped hair of the same colour—now more silver-gray than sand blonde—and marvels at the man before him.

Sherlock finds himself often flashing back to the day John imprinted himself upon his life by saving it with a well-timed and better-aimed bullet through shattering glass windows, and how he stood at the following crime scene with red-and-blue lights flashing across his calm face.

Whenever John tells him about his time in Afghanistan, Sherlock feels himself tied ever more inextricably to the man in front of him, John’s words tangling deep in his very heartstrings.


End file.
